


Don't Ruin It

by Sarah531



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah531/pseuds/Sarah531
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to impress Pearl, Mayor Dewey attempts a one-man production of famed musical Les Miserables.</p><p>Exactly what you would expect to happen, probably, happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Ruin It

“Dad,” said Buck Dewey. “I’m going away for spring break tomorrow.”

“I know,” said Mayor Dewey.

“Please don’t work too hard while I’m gone. You know the doctor says you shouldn’t.” 

“Well,” said Mayor Dewey, “I _am_ doing something important right now. But after that-”

“What are you doing?”

“I am putting on a one-man production of _Les Miserables_ ,” said Mayor Dewey. “To impress a girl.”

“Oh,” said Buck, as if this was the sort of thing that happened every day. “Wait. The tall one with the afro?”

“Oh no,” said Mayor Dewey. “I’m not sure I trust her. She Talks Like This All The Time.”

“I like her,” said Buck. “She’s cool.” 

“I’m thinking about Pearl,” said his father. “Now that’s a tall drink of water. She reminds me of your mother, actually, god rest her soul.”

“Uh-huh,” said Buck. Before he went upstairs he turned around and said, “How are you gonna do a _one-man_ production of _Les Miserables_?”

“I will FIND a way,” Mayor Dewey vowed.

*

THREE DAYS LATER

*

Mayor Dewey was selling tickets to his play outside the town hall.

“Aren’t you a _mayor_?” Amethyst asked as they all walked past. “Shouldn’t you be doing your mayor-ly duties?”

“There’ll be time for that later.” Dewey said pompously. “I’m currently hosting an important cultural event.”

“What?” Pearl said.

“I’m putting on a one-time, one-night, one-man musical production of _Les Miserables_.”

“I see,” said Pearl. Dewey offered her a ticket hopefully. “No thank you.”

“But we want to go!” said Steven. “I love musicals more than I love anything in the whole wide world oh please oh please oh please.”

“Yes,” Connie agreed, “I _love_ musicals. And I’ve read Les Miserables the book five times.”

Mayor Dewey waved the tickets invitingly in the air.

“Oh please,” Steven tried again.

“Fine. If you _really_ want to.” said Pearl. “Amethyst? Will you accompany Steven and Connie to the show?”

“Nooo thank you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like musicals.”

“Right,” said Pearl crossly. “I suppose _I_ will.”

“I Will Come Too,” said Garnet. They all looked at her in mild surprise. “Singing is fun,” she said with a shrug.

“ _Fine_ ,” said Pearl again. “Well, in that case-”

“Please come, Pearl!” Steven begged. “Plays are more fun with you.”

“Oh, if I _must_ ,” Pearl said.

“ _Excellent_!!!!!” said Mayor Dewey in a tone of voice that required five exclamation marks to convey, just as if she had been overwhelmingly enthusiastic instead of grudgingly compliant. “I’ll see you there.”

*

Mayor Dewey’s one-man production of _Les Miserables_ was bad. It was remarkably bad. It was the worst thing committed to stage. Arguably, it was the worst thing (with _some_ exceptions) that had ever happened in the whole universe ever.

Despite the hundreds of plastic seats placed out there were only five people in the audience: Pearl, Garnet, Steven, Connie, and a tall man with an eyepatch. After the very first song, the tall man with an eyepatch got up, spat in the general direction of the stage, and left.

“I really want to see how he does _One Day More_ ,” said Connie, a combination of fear and optimism etched on her pretty face. “Then it’ll be the interval, and…we can leave?”

Mayor Dewey did _One Day More_ by rapidly switching between all the different voices and hastily running from place to place on the stage. It was _almost_ an impressive achievement, but not quite.

“There should be an interval now,” Connie whispered. “Why isn’t there an interval?”

“Don’t you like it? I like it!” Steven said. The others looked at him, and each sighed internally, but stayed in their seats for his sake.

There was not an interval. Major Dewey next sang _On My Own_ , with gusto, but towards the end his voice did actually soften a little and turn the song onto something quite nice.

“I like this song,” Pearl said all of a sudden. “Not the way _he_ does it, but I like it.”

Steven looked at her starry-eyed. “I like it too!”

“I would sing it better,” said Pearl.

After that came _Drink With Me_ (bad), _Bring Him Home_ (bad but with at least some emotion to it) and then the one-man fall of the barricade, represented on stage by a few more plastic chairs. Mayor Dewey as Enjolras raised a red flag (actually a torn shirt on a pole), staggered about for a bit, grasped at an invisible hand, and finally died. There was no applause whatsoever. _Then_ it was the interval.

*

Mayor Dewey hopped off the stage and pretended not to notice everyone’s shellshocked expressions.

“How was it?”

“It was awful,” said Garnet and Connie at once.

“It was alright?” Steven suggested.

“Pearl?” said Mayor Dewey hopefully.

“I don’t want to be rude…” Pearl said, “…but I will be. It was very very bad.”

“Well,” said Mayor Dewey hopefully, “…the second half will be better. I guarantee it.”

“We’ll stay!” said Steven instantly, as Pearl groaned and didn’t even bother to hide it. “I like the story.”

“I do too,” said Mayor Dewey, sounding genuinely sincere instead of politician-sincere just for an instant. There was a weird silence.

“I read it five times,” Connie spoke up in order to end the awkwardness. “I like it too.”

“What did you like about it?” Dewey asked. 

“The theme of love against all odds. But I don’t know if Marius should have married Cosette,” Connie said. “I wanted him to marry Eponine.”

“Why?” asked Mayor Dewey.

No-one had really asked Connie that before. “She just deserved a break,” she said nervously, as if a teacher had asked her in class. “She just dies, it’s not fair.”

“Well,” said Mayor Dewey, “that’s how Victor Hugo wrote it.”

“He should’ve done the other thing. I mean, she did love him a lot. It just makes more _sense_ , to me at least…”

“But people aren’t always going to write stories the way you want them.” Mayor Dewey sounded oddly bitter about this.

Steven changed the subject, not because he didn’t want to hear what Connie had to say, but because he wanted to avoid even the smallest of arguments. “What was that hand thing you did before you…uh…died?” he asked Mayor Dewey.

“Ah, now that was a reference to my favourite bit of the book,” said Dewey. “In the midst of battle, the lazy drunken Grantaire sees Enjolras about to be shot.” He cast his arm out in a grand gesture. “Enjolras is all he’s ever loved in the world! His light! His shining star! His _rock_!” He did not see Pearl’s face contort into an expression that was at once sad and angry and grief-stricken and thoughtful, but Steven did, and his lip wobbled. “So when he sees him about to be shot, what does he do? Offer to die alongside him, of course. So he does. They die holding hands.”

“That’s sad,” said Steven.

“Yes,” said Mayor Dewey, “but it’s a remarkable love story. And all the more remarkable for being between two guys!”

“Why would that be remarkable?” Pearl asked.

Mayor Dewey looked at her. Then he really _properly_ looked, at the lines on her face and the darkness in her eyes as well as everything else, and he went ‘bibble’.

“Let’s get back on with the play!” he wailed, and clambered back on stage.

*

Thoughtfully, Major Dewey had moved Eponine’s death scene to after the fall of the barricade. He proceeded to die, covered in fake blood, against a table that he had borrowed from the Big Donut.

“You’re HEEEERE,” he warbled tortuously, “That’s AAALLLL I NEEEEED to KNOOOOW.”

“I Cannot Take Much More Of This,” Garnet said.

“At least he’s trying,” said Steven.

“Victor Hugo is going to come back to life and KICK HIM IN THE FACE at this rate,” Connie said, rather uncharacteristically.

Very slowly, the play drew to a close. Mayor Dewey married himself, punched himself in the face, died in his own arms and finally, _finally_ took a bow. 

Steven applauded. The others applauded to be polite. Mayor Dewey clambered off stage, rather more slowly than he had done last time, and collapsed onto one of the plastic seats.

“Bill,” said Pearl, “if you _like_ that book or musical or whatever it is, why do you feel the need to _ruin_ it by making it yours?”

“Hmmm,” said Garnet Garnet-ly.

“Alright,” said Mayor Dewey, “maybe I’m not the best actor in the world, or singer, but it’s not like I…” He trailed off. “I thought _you’d_ like it.”

Pearl pursed her lips, and Steven could tell she was about to snap at him, so he cut in with a question. “Why do you like it so much?” he asked Dewey.

He thought Dewey might have taken the ‘it’ to mean ‘Pearl’ and launch into an explanation of his crush on her, which would have been so bad it might even have been worse than the play, but he did actually talk about the story instead.

“Because it’s the greatest novel and then musical ever written. Because it’s about the endurance of the human spirit!” Dewey said. “Love and revolution and sacrifice! Nobility in the face of death!”

Garnet cleared her throat, which meant something unfortunate was very possibly coming.

“These Things,” Garnet said. “The Girl’s Tragic Sacrifice. The Lovers Joined In Death. The Mother’s Pain. The Man Feeling Guilty About Candlesticks. None Of That Actually Happened.”

Pearl sat back rather smugly.

“Well, were you _there_?” asked Mayor Dewey, in the tone of a man who knew the answer perfectly well already but wished he didn’t.

“Yes,” said Garnet. “There Was A Lot Of Blood And Explosions And Prisons And People Saying Oh God No I Don’t Want To Die. There Was No Time To Take In The Detail. No Author Could Have Done It.”

Mayor Dewey pouted, but it was the grown-up frustrated sort of pout. “So Victor Hugo made it all up, that’s what you’re saying.”

“Just Because A Thing Is Made Up,” Garnet said, “Doesn’t Make It Any Less _True_.”

“Yes, he made it up,” Pearl said pointedly. “You should know that.”

“Of course I know that,” said Mayor Dewey hastily. He got up and started picking up and stacking the plastic chairs, as Pearl watched with disdain and Garnet with complete neutrality. “Well. I suppose I’d better pack up-”

He then had a massive heart attack.

*

Garnet, Pearl, Steven and Connie all ran towards him.

“Oh god,” Mayor Dewey said, convulsing on the sand. “Oh god. This is awful. This is awful!” Garnet shifted Steven and Connie away. “Oh god. I’m _dying_!”

“You’re not dying,” Garnet said. “You’re having a heart attack. You’re not-”

“Should I do something?” Steven asked anxiously, at the same time Connie said “Should I call my mom?”

“Oh god. No! I _don’t want to die_!”

“You’re _not dying_ ,” Garnet said again. “Although don’t get me wrong. You are very sick.”

“Steven, Connie,” said Pearl, “go home until we sort this out.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” Steven said nervously.

“Yes,” said both Gems firmly.

“Oh _god_ ,” Mayor Dewey said. The children ran off.

“I’m going to call an ambulance,” said Garnet suddenly, and she arose and went to Beach City’s one remaining phone booth (conveniently located nearby) and started dialing.

That left Pearl alone with a very ill and possibly dying human. She was no stranger to death, and her overwhelming emotion was pity more than anything.

“Pearl,” said Mayor Dewey, looking considerably more sweaty than usual, although it wasn’t really his fault.

“Yes?” she said rather warily.

“I always thought you seemed like a good person. And a good mom. And just…great in general. I _thought_ I was a little in love with you. Bearing all that in mind, will you…”

“ _What_?”

“Will you please tell my son I love him.”

“Oh,” Pearl looked at him rather quizzically. “Well, you didn’t have to ask, we would have done that anyway.”

“And again,” said Garnet, coming back, “you’re not dying.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I Know.” The Garnet voice was hard to doubt. Pearl looked at her, then at Mayor Dewey.

“I’ll get the chairs for you,” she said, and she got up, and proceeded to do just that. The agony Mayor Dewey was feeling was beginning to subside, which was good.

“At least the person I actually did this for stayed til the end,” he told Garnet.

“Do You Know What Her Second Name Is?” Garnet asked.

Mayor Dewey looked surprised at the question, but then he concentrated hard. “Her name,” he said with utter conviction, “is Pearl Cunningham-Smythe.”

“No.”

“Oh good. I made that up.”

“Her Name Is Just Pearl. She Doesn’t Have A Second Name.”

“Well, that’s just silly,” said Mayor Dewey. “How would you tell her apart from all the other Pearls?”

“How indeed,” said Garnet.

There were ambulance sirens in the distance.

“I don’t think I’m going to die,” Mayor Dewey said. “Right?”

“No, you’re not going to die.” Garnet said. She was looking at Pearl picking up the chairs, and had Mayor Dewey been able to see her eyes he would have seen a strange but very sincere love in them. The sun was setting. Someone was doing something nice for someone she didn’t have to do something nice for. It seemed a good time for the moral of the story or something vaguely equivalent-

“Actually,” said the eternal celestial space creature to the quivering human, “It’s True That Just Because A Thing Is Made Up It’s Not Any Less True. But It’s Also True That Just Because A Thing Is Made Up It’s Not Necessarily _Not_ True.”

“What?” said Mayor Dewey.

“I’m Saying,” said Garnet, “That I Am Just One Being, And Couldn’t Possibly Report On All The Small, Vital Moments That Took Place Through History. There _May_ Have Been A Jean Valjean. There _May_ Have Been A Javert And A Fantine And A Cosette And A Marius And An Eponine And An Enjolras and Grantaire.”

“Oh,” said Mayor Dewey, looking forlornly at the stage.

“And They Would Have Loathed Your Performance Just As Much As We All Did.”

“Oh,” Mayor Dewey said again. And after a few seconds, “What was the first part again?”

“It Is Far More Likely,” said Garnet, “That Each Character Was Many Different People, Who Were And Are And Will Be. Fusions, If You Will. There Will Always Be People Who Feel Guilt, Or Anger, Or Unrequited Love In Any Form.” And she glanced at Pearl again. A little.

Mayor Dewey was lost in thought “Y’know…the people you _did_ see, when you were there at the barricades,” he finally said, “did they all die?”

“No,” said Garnet firmly. “Many Of Them Were Killed. But I Can Say With Absolute Certainty That They Did Not Die.”

It was then that the ambulance arrived, and two anonymous paramedics transferred Mayor Dewey to a stretcher. As he was being lifted   
past Pearl into the ambulance, he lifted his head to her and said,

"Apart from _that_ , Ms Pearl, how did you like the play?”

“Um,” said Pearl.

“It’s cool. I understand,” said Dewey suddenly, “I saw your face during some of my more _awesome_ acting moments. I saw your face in general. There was someone else and she died. It’s totally cool, anyway. I mean, not because she…I mean…it’s fine. Honestly.” He turned to the paramedics. “Please fix me up before my son gets back.” And he was gone.

“What A Strange Man,” said Garnet. Pearl said nothing.

“Are you alright?” Garnet asked.

“Humans just…have…thing love _weird_. Problematic. Good.” said Pearl.

“Could You Put Those Words Into The Right Order, Please.”

“No,” said Pearl. “I miss Rose.”

“We all do,” Garnet said kindly, and led her back home.

*

When they got back in, Amethyst was parading around the room with Steven and Connie behind her, waving a torn sheet and singing.

“DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING, SINGING THE SONG OF ANGRY GEMS…”

Garnet cleared her throat loudly.

“I thought you didn’t like musicals!” Pearl said crossly.

“I do now,” said Amethyst. “Connie told me about Les Mis. It’s frickin’ awesome!”

“Is Mayor Dewey alright? He didn’t _die_ , did he?” Steven asked. He looked downright stricken.

“We would look a lot sadder if he had,” said Pearl. “No, he’s fine.”

“Oh whew. Are _you_ alright?” Steven asked, and Pearl was about to answer when she realised he was talking to Garnet.

“Sometimes things bring back bad memories for me,” Garnet said. “But I’m alright now. I promise.”

“Good,” said Steven. All three Gems (and Connie) felt the familiar rush of love for the kid.

“You should go to bed,” said Garnet. “And Connie should call her parents.”

The children hurried away to do that. Pearl stared forlornly out of the window.

“No,” said Garnet, “you should not have died with Rose.”

“I know,” Pearl said. “But she’s just a story now, and I’m still here.”

Amethyst looked worried. “So?” she said hopefully. “Being a story is the best thing you can be. Maybe they’ll sing songs about you one day. About us! That seems reasonable, right?”

“I guess so,” said Pearl.

*

Mayor Dewey got better in hospital and continued his life with his son. Garnet sometimes nodded in vague acknowledgment when she saw him on the street. Amethyst took Steven and Connie to see _Les Miserables_ on Broadway no less than seven times. 

Pearl continued to mourn for her lost love, but sometimes she could be heard singing the _Les Miserables_ epilogue whilst cleaning or cooking or fighting. “ _You raised my child in love_ ,” she sung rather sweetly, although without knowing all the lyrics. “something something something, _all your grief, at last at last behind you…”_

 

THE END


End file.
